Luyện nghe bài hát Hey That's Me

It's off the hook home slice, like a fish.
All I wish is that you taste this like a dish.
the L-A-R-S, H-O double-R I-S...
and I CV, and yes I must confess:
I'm back 2003 and the snare pumps.
up, Kris Kross, it's my turn to jump.
See I'm a and I'm balanced,
it like Ritchie Valens,
and I'm up to fresh session,
yes I'm up to fresh challenge.
And I'm thinking, and I'm writing,
and I'm rapping, and fighting
all the of green apathy
up the zone.
Because I'll your world,
analyze your head.
I'll readjust paradigm with this microphone.
I was in my '88 south on 101,
the woofer in the back bumping P.E. number one.
Free-styling in a genre I create,
props to Melle Mel, D, and all eight
hundred MC's on whose shoulders I stand.
I'm just a white kid with a plastic in his hand!
See MC here spends his life feeling fine,
but often get off in a straight line.
Fine, time tell where he's headed.
up to chance, like Gretel's path is breaded.
Your criticism? I'm above it! Your BS? rubber glove it!
Take your heroin and it... life you've got to love it.
So get this, steal this, deal this, peel away,
I made this song out of my neurons and clay.
It my brain chill for a week and a day,
one day it stopped working like the city of Pompeii.
But it's okay, hey, because I it home.
Knick knack whack, my sonic range his grown.
Profound like Antoine De Exuperey,
when I rock the chorus of song I say...

"Lars Horris," hey me!
Part Swedish, part Australian, fun boy G.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I 1430 on my SAT's.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I'll the CoHo like 1-2-3.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I drop English and and biology.

I piss Catholics off my comic in the Daily. "Why's it called '27th Street'?" Man, don't front me.
Jorge Cham might do "PhD," but can he try to rock the mike like me?
And I'm weird like Al, don't attend Cal, D.J.'s my buddy. Who's
Josh bass and I take wedding vows,
to my hip-hop rhymes I'm busting now.
And I satisfy women GER's,
I the destruction of SUV cars.
I think Israel and should get along.
I Nine Inch Nails for this song.
And I'm so post-modern, I don't exist.
Did you that P. Diddy?
You got dissed!
the twenty-first century, MC's please,
you're killing hip-hop you sample the Bee Gees!
Most MC's today rap about five
narcotics, cars, girls, clothes, and the bling.
of grandeur in full swing,
fascist self focus and rings.
But if Martin Luther King were today,
how would he weigh the displayed?
identities, ourselves betrayed,
there's more to rap just getting paid.
And there's more to life MTV and Reeses Pieces,
and when I sit in silence, my love for increases.
It feels great to pull the plug on the TV,
and make my own in society.
And while I this beat, you're doing spoken word,
to get your naked voice heard.
If I didn't know ProTools, I'd be you
and I just do spoken word if I wanted to.

"Lars Horris," hey me!
You see me on the street bumping Run-DMC.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
After my BA get my PhD.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
Metaphysically fly like Donne's "The Flea."
"Lars Horris," hey me!
Rewriting Bronte like Sargasso Sea.